As I explained in part one, my personal circumstances in the late 90’s forced me into some desperate situations. Having again recently left home, I try and build a bankroll for the WSOP. But with just a few hours to go before the flight (which Frankie Knight had booked that day for $99), things looked bleak. In desperation, I try and hit the roulette wheel (god how I hate that game) with the few hundred I had - I obviously failed. The time ticks by and I inform Frankie that I had no choice but to miss Vegas. Just then, a very nice guy and friend named Denzil, walks into the Rainbow Casino in Birmingham as I am just about to walk out. He wishes me well for my trip to Vegas and he wished he coming with me. Cut a long story short, Denzil digs into his pocket and offers me the 200 quid he is carrying. My smile tells him that it ain’t enough and Vegas will have to wait. Inspired by my obvious dejection, he drags me to the craps table for one last desperate attempt. With time running out, he somehow turned it into almost a grand and pushed it in my hands. Oh no, not again I thought; not another no-budget trip to the States.
Although very reluctant to make the trip, there was nothing to stay home for. Along with Frankie and about six others from the Midlands (most of us were skint btw), we arrive at the Plaza a week before the WSOP begins. At the same time, the Plaza would be holding smaller events with $100 buy-ins and limited to 44 players. But at least with these, it would be winner-take-all and a chance to start creating a bankroll of sorts. But by the time these would begin, $100 was going to be hard to find for Peter. In fact, with an hour or so before the first of these, I had resigned myself to spending the day at the pool. However, before our flight from Manchester, a friend that I had helped to set up in business a couple of years back, had assured me that he would send a wire through to the Plaza. Oh well, at least I had my ration of smokes until it came though.
As thoughts of the lonely walk to the pool begin, I see a big smiley face head towards me. I had met Tony Grandizio a year earlier (in better days) when we got heads-up during a one-table at Binions. When Tony asked if I was playing that day and I responded with a shake of the head, no words were needed - I had myself a backer!
At around that time, for whatever reason; I seemed to experience an extraordinarily high level of sixth sense. I don’t know if my circumstances had anything to do with it, but it did seem that I was being helped by outside forces. Perhaps it was because of such forces, that there is a story to be told. Because perhaps without them, I could not have survived in the manner that I did. BTW, I am not a religious person, so divine intervention is not suggested here. Anyhow and either way, I was about to play poker after all.
On my first table, Lucy Rockach goes all-in utg with her very small stack. All pass to Vince Madden (another Brummie) on the BB. Vince ponders….and then picks up his hand as if to muck. Sitting directly opposite both of them, I ask Vince not to show his hand as I knew he had the
-5s. The thing was, this was not the first time that I named another players cards on that table. So when Vince shows the exact two cards, you could say that my vibes were good that day. BTW, Lucy has seen me do this many times before and since. I don’t know, perhaps Lucy inspires my vibes? Anyhow, the tournament continues and I find myself on the final table.
Directly opposite me in seat seven, is our chip leader and local loudmouth. And although he seemed to rile everyone in the place, I found him quite amusing really. Well, wouldn’t you know it? One by one, he clears out the table and we are left heads-up. But although he started as chip-leader, and then busted every player, he lost every hand we played together. So by this stage, I had him out-chipped by at least 3-1. Of course, with nothing for second place, he was fully intent on trying to rile me asap. In fact, the very first hand is about to be dealt and he asks if I knew who Clint Eastwood was. My obvious replay came just as I looked down at my first card, the Ace of spades. “Well then” he mutters, “Why don‘t you make my day and let me win one hand against you”? Looking at my second card, the King of spades; my only reply was to announce all-in.
Suddenly, he goes very quite - he has a hand here. This could be it, please call! He ponders… and ponders….and looks me in the eye. As if scripted, I could not help but stare back with the words, “Well, do you feel lucky punk“?. I don’t know if it the laughter from the watching English players made him call, but he immediately pushed in with his with his A-Q. I can’t fully explain what that win meant to me. But considering my circumstances during those desperate times, hope was the only thing that kept me going, and winning was the only thing that gave me hope.
That day at the Plaza will always be with be with me. For starters, it was the day that Frankie first nicknamed me Houdini. But more importantly, it was a thank you to Denzil for pushing me to come, and Tony for his gesture. Furthermore, what followed over the next few days, really defied belief.
To be continued…….
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